


Relaxing touches

by Plugs



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23618158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plugs/pseuds/Plugs
Summary: A group of hax playing minibots overhear something in the rec room. Assumptions are made.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Relaxing touches

**Author's Note:**

> [8 July 2020 - grammar and other edits made.]

Cliffjumper frowned as he twiddled the hax piece in his servo. Bumblebee was far too fragging good at this game. But Cliff smirked as he worked out Brawn had left three of his pieces ripe for the taking—it’d made up for his losses from Bee’s assault.

“Sorry Brawn, but I intend to win this game,” Cliffjumper said.

 _“Ahhhhhhh....primus,”_ a muffled voice moaned.

“I wasn’t the only one who head that right?” Windcharger asked, “Who the slag is that?”

 _“Uuuuhhhh,”_ the voice moaned again.

“‘Who the _frag_ ’ might be more accurate,” Brawn replied.

“For primus sake,” Cliffjumper growled. “Why can’t mechs get a fragging room!”

“I think they’re _in_ a room.” Bee cleared his vocaliser. “Sounds like it’s coming from the tv room—remind me not to sit on that sofa again.”

 _“—you enjoying that mech?”_ Another voice said.

Bumblebee flushed violently. “um, perhaps we could take this back to my place?”

_“...this is—you are so talented with your servos.”_

Cliffjumper slammed his servos on the table and hax pieces went flying in all directions. “Slag this! We shouldn’t have to leave _our_ rec room because _they_ can’t keep it down.”

“Jumper, think about this mech,” Brawn pleaded, “we don’t know who’s in there!”

Cliffjumper growled, “I can’t fragging think with that racket from their fragging!”

He marched up to the door. The righteous fury of a mech inflicted with nuisance noise burning in his lines.

* * *

“That was _amazing_ ,” Prowl purred, “I’ve never felt so relaxed.”

“Told you I was good at this— mechs never believe me when I tell em I was a massage therapist pre war.” Jazz smiled.

“I certainly believe it now. I didn’t even realise my shoulders were stiff.”

“Mech, if they’d been any stiffer they’d have fallen off—you’ve gotta get a more comfortable chair.”

“Well in that case I’m glad—“

The door opened. “Keep it the frag down!—not everyone needs to know how good you are at fingering or that you’re fragging each other’s processors out!” Cliffjumper roared.

“ _Excuse me_?” Prowl’s wings shot up as he extracted himself from the sofa. “Private Cliffjumper, I require an explanation.”

Cliffjumper stood frozen. His optics went wide as realisation dawned. “well I thought, it sounded like—because I didn’t know it wasn’t—“

Prowl’s wings shook. “If you find noise levels unacceptable, use the standard procedure of knocking _first_.”

“Yes sir, I’ll knock every time in future sir!” Cliffjumper babbled.

“ _Leave_ ,” Prowl growled. 

Jazz looked at Prowl’s shaking wings and tensed shoulders. “—an’ now I’ll have to get all those knots untangled again,” he murmured.


End file.
